


At the End of the Day

by inklings



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 03:33:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2606954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inklings/pseuds/inklings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack and Phryne take some time to rest at the end of a difficult case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the End of the Day

Detective Inspector Jack Robinson did not believe in frivolities. But after all these months of working with the decidedly opulent Miss Phryne Fisher, he had to make some concessions. He had learned to enjoy a tumbler of aged whiskey to celebrate the close of a taxing case, and was even known to join in on the occasional pas de deux with the aforementioned Miss Fisher.

Tonight, she was in high spirits. Phryne flitted around the room, readjusting the phonograph and swaying with the music while holding a crystal champagne flute aloft. Jack leaned against the wall with his tumbler of whiskey and marveled at how alive she seemed—like a sparkling firefly on a summer’s night. She turned to catch his eye and before he could look away and pretend to be examining the newspaper left out on the coffee table, Phryne was making her way across the room towards him.

“How is my dearest partner in crime doing this evening?” she asked archly, leaning against the wall next to him. She was so close that he could feel her bare shoulder brushing his, and as he took a deep breath to respond, he could smell her scent—an intoxicating blend of sandalwood and musk.

“I wouldn’t call us partners in crime, Miss Fisher,” he responded steadily. “We’re solving crimes and not committing them. There’s a certain distinction to be had between the two.”

She gave him that mischievous, dazzling smile that he’d grown to love despite himself, and clinked her glass against his gently. “Well, here’s to being partners on the right side of the law,” she said. “I never thought that doing the right thing would be such fun!”

They both took a sip of their drinks and fell into a companionable silence, surveying the room. Mr. Butler had set up a small card table in the room, and Dottie and Hugh sat across from each other in a game of chess. From the way that they glanced at each other between moves, it was clear that they were far from adversaries, and Jack found himself smiling at their sweet, easy courtship. Nothing would ever come between those two. They were as solid together as granite.

“They are lovely, aren’t they?” Phryne’s voice broke him out of his reverie as though she was reading his mind. He looked up to find her regarding the couple with an expression of unguarded affection on her face. “If there’s one good thing that we’ve done, Jack, it’s bringing those two together.”

He nodded in agreement and took another swig of his whiskey to wet his suddenly dry mouth. How many times had he thought about how lucky Hugh was—and how lucky he was—that they’d happened upon Phryne and her hectic, raucous household? And how many times had he envied Hugh’s guilelessness and ability to show his emotions without fear of reproof? That was one area in which the young constable had outperformed his superior.

“We were certainly kept busy this week,” she said, letting her head drop against his shoulder as he swallowed hard. “Another murder solved. Another scoundrel brought to justice.” As he looked down at her face, he could see that despite the red lipstick, beaded gown, and perfectly coiffed hair, she was tired—her eyelids heavy and her face paler than usual. But it did not detract from her beauty at all. In fact, seeing Phryne exhausted and vulnerable almost seized Jack with a fit of madness—he wanted to reach over and cup her face in his hands. He wanted to kiss those lips and tell her to rest. Instead, he cleared his throat and carried on the conversation. Talking would keep him safe. The real danger lay in the cracks in their conversation, in the moments when silence took on deeper meaning.

“Despite what I feel about your unorthodox methods of detective work, I was glad to have you on my side, Miss Fisher,” Jack said wryly, thinking about how he had caught Phryne breaking into a museum just three nights ago.

They’d gotten into a terrific row—just like they did at least almost every time they worked on a case together—but in the end, she’d been right. The murder weapon, a heavy antique blade, was hidden in plain sight as part of an exhibit on medieval weaponry. They were able to tie the murder of a rising artist to the museum director with that piece of evidence.

“You must trust my instincts more often, Jack,” Phryne said, downing the rest of her glass of champagne and setting it down on the table with a heavy clink. She tilted her chin up teasingly. “I’ve never steered you wrong, have I?”

 _No, but you could easily lead me astray._ Just looking at her red lips and sparkling eyes made Jack want to abandon all propriety and lean down to capture her mouth with his, but he couldn’t. They made a good crime-solving team, yes, but Jack wasn’t blind to their differences. She was like a bright flame, flickering and spreading to the farthest corners of every room she entered. He was different—repressed and bound by his honor and sense of propriety. Even if she kissed him back, surely she would eventually find herself disappointed and bored with him. He had no doubt that Phryne had taken far more exciting lovers than him, even if the mere thought sent a painful pang up through his chest.

“I should be going,” Jack said, clearing his throat and averting his gaze. This was what he always did—he left before his feelings could escape and ruin everything between them. It was a method of self-preservation, and it hadn’t failed him yet. “Thank you for a pleasant evening, Miss Fisher. And thank you for your invaluable help with the case.”

This time, though, Phryne’s hand shot out and latched onto his arm as he stood up to leave. He almost flinched at her touch. When he looked into her face, she had shed her usual veneer of charm and indifference. She looked utterly serious as she said, almost in a whisper, “Surely you don’t have to go quite yet, Jack. Your paperwork can wait until tomorrow. What’s one more drink amongst friends?”

She wanted him to stay. Knowing this sent a thrill up Jack’s spine, and he stopped in his tracks despite all of the usual alarms in his head that told him to go.

“I suppose I could stay for just one more drink,” he murmured, and the rest of his resolve crumbled as a smile lit up her tired face, as though he’d just given her the finest gift that money could buy.

She stood up, suddenly animated, and went over to the coffee table to pick up two fresh tumblers and a decanter of whiskey. Jack remained in his corner, watching her movements with pleasure. As Phryne passed by the chess game, she leaned down to give Dot an affectionate kiss on the cheek, and the girl blushed bright pink. “My darlings,” Phryne said loudly, “Jack and I are going to have a drink upstairs. We need to discuss some details from the latest case.”

As she gave him a smile over her bare shoulder, Jack raised his eyebrows in surprise. This was a startling turn of events. In normal circumstances, he would have politely and firmly declined an invitation upstairs. But tonight was different. He’d agreed to stay already, and now that she’d announced to the room that they were going upstairs, it would be odd of him to protest.

“Indeed, we do,” he said, trying and failing to ignore the surprised looks that passed between Dot, Hugh, and Mr. Butler. “If you’ll excuse us.”

Phryne led the way upstairs and Jack followed her in silence, mesmerized by the sway of her hips and the way her beaded dress swung above her knees. She carried the tumblers and decanter expertly without spilling a drop, and he had to smile as he watched her open a door with a confident bump of her hip.

Jack stopped in the doorway to survey the room. The bed was large, plush, and comfortable, and he could see that Phryne was a bit messy—there was a book open on the dresser and various pieces of jewelry scattered across her bedside table. It was a warm and lived-in room, and it was unmistakably Phryne’s.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in your bedroom before, Miss Fisher,” he said as Phryne poured out two drinks and flopped onto the bed on her stomach. His voice sounded unnaturally gruff.

“Of course you haven’t, Jack,” Phryne said, giving him a cheeky wink as she patted the bedspread beside her. “You’re far too principled to frequent my den of iniquity.”

He sat down stiffly on the edge of the bed and took a tumbler from her, trying not to let her see just how rattled he was by their proximity. Why had he followed her upstairs? Why had he even agreed to have another drink? With Phryne, things were never simple and innocent—he should have been well-aware of this fact by now.

“So what did you want to talk about?” he finally asked. “Are there any particulars of the case that are bothering you?”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and impossibly blue. “Oh, I’m perfectly happy with how the case was resolved,” she said. “I just thought that we could both use a rest. We’ve been working through the night and almost getting ourselves killed for the past week, after all.”

“Well perhaps I should leave you to rest then, Miss Fisher,” he said, seizing on the opportunity. This was his chance to escape, before he fell into those blue eyes and couldn’t recover himself. He started to set the tumbler down, but she gave him a warning look.

“I asked you to stay for another drink because I didn’t want you to go,” Phryne said with a sigh. “We’re good friends, aren’t we Jack?”

“I would say so...” he responded cautiously, setting down his drink on the bedside table. His judgment was already clouded enough—he didn’t need another drink to bring him closer to the precipice of his feelings for Phryne Fisher.

“Then you must stop acting like I’ll bite your head off whenever we’re alone,” she said, patting the space beside her with more vigor. “Lie down, Jack. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

He hesitated for a moment, but Phryne did not seem to be actively trying to seduce him—although that didn’t stop him from admiring how lovely she looked as she lay on the bed with her high heeled shoes kicked off. Before he could change his mind, Jack took off his jacket and lay down next to her on his back. They weren’t touching, but he could feel her breath on his cheek as she turned onto her side to face him and smiled.

“See?” she said, her eyelids half closed and she sighed in exhaustion. “I’m being positively pious. There’s nothing to worry about.”

For a while, they lay there side by side without speaking. Jack couldn’t stop himself from watching Phryne’s relaxed face as she curled her arm underneath her head like a pillow and blinked languidly like a cat. He could hear the furious beating of his own heart as she scooted in closer until their faces were mere inches apart.

Phryne gave him him one more soft smile before her eyes fell shut. Jack felt his throat tighten with emotion as he thought of how she must trust him so implicitly to be able to fall asleep in front of him. He watched her for several more minutes as her breathing slowed and her mouth fell open with sleep.

Perhaps it was the way that she looked so peaceful as she slept, or perhaps it was the liquid courage from the whiskey running through his veins, but Jack couldn’t stop himself from reaching out a hand to touch Phryne’s smooth cheek.

At his touch, her eyes fluttered open and met his. “There’s always something to worry about when it comes to you, Miss Fisher,” he said throatily, barely recognizing his own voice. And then, before she could open her mouth to protest, he was kissing her.

At first, her lips remained pressed together in surprise. But in seconds, she had parted her mouth to his, and they were kissing with urgency. Jack shifted his position and felt a shudder run through him as his whole body pressed against hers. She had reached up to bury her hands in his hair, and he felt as though he might never surface for air again.

At last, he drew away and looked down at Phryne. Her eyes were wide and shining, and her lips were parted as she breathed heavily. She looked so flustered that he wanted to laugh—he had finally shocked her for once.

“My goodness, Jack,” she said, her voice still breathless. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so forward. I always imagined that you’d be more restrained in the boudoir.”

“I believe you’ll find that I’m a man of many facets, Miss Fisher,” Jack said as he leaned down to kiss her again. This time, she was ready for him.

Fin.


End file.
